*prod*

Hello, I wrote a chapter because KrSplats kind words inspired me.
This is the first part of chapter 49.
I have the rest ready, but I need to type it into my computer as it is handwritten.

I have actually typed another chapter after this and am working on a third one after that. So I will have plenty of stuff and I assure you the third one will really help this story move forward.

I hope me writing something will inspire other people to start writing again as well.


Chapter 49: A gentle push.

She had shown a moment of weakness. In that moment he had chosen a side and had gauged out her eyes.
The brave and young man she had once known and loved had turned into a backstabbing coward. Ooze seeped from the sockets in her face and mixed with her salty tears too form a gruesome make-up.
The white of her eyes pushed to the background as the red took center stage. Her hands clutched for anything solid told hold on too, but she found nothing but air.
Estella crawled through the mud and every time she heard the squishing of the thick, brown substance she was reminded of the sound her eyes had made as they gave in to his strong and penetrating fingers.
She had longed for him to fill her body, but in those fantasies it had always been quiet a different orrifice.
Estella surpressed the urge to laugh for she had more pressing matters to tend too. Slender like a snake in the grass she rose to her feet and put the tip of her thumb in her mouth.
After a little saliva had gathered on it she moved the thumb over her wounded eyes as if annointing herself.
Her eyes started healing and before long she would be able to see again.

She had spent most of her childhood in the large summerhouse at the edge of the thriving town of Orangelia.
Which would, ages from now become a metropolis buzzing with life.
Both of her parents were loving and warm and spoiled her to death.
Little Estella sat at the edge of the lake in front of the house and enjoyed the cool summerbreeze that played with her hair.
Her childish mind free from burden and unaware of how soon things would change for the worst.
Her uncle Henric joined her and handed her a small flower. "A gift for the princess." He said and she laughed as she accepted the daisy.
Henrics eyes went up and down her small and delicate body. She had only recently started to blossom, but the first signs of womanhood were clearly visible against the soft fabric of her favorite dress.
Her mother joined them and gave her daughter a glass of cold apple juice.
"Hello Henric." Her voice was filled with undistinguishable contempt at the sight of the man. "I see your journey went well. I will inform my husband of your arrival."
Edwina Bane motioned for him to follow her and did not see the signs of sadness in his eyes, she was a good judge of character though. And had never really liked her husbands brother.
Henric looked at his niece once more with the hunger in his eyes that only an adult could identify and followed his sister-in-law into the house.
In the hallway he was greeted by the familiar smell of tobacco and Edwinas pot roast.
"Herbert." Henric said before the woman had any change of announcing him properly and he passed her by.
Estellas father got to his feet and both men embraced eachother, glad to see each other again after what seem like a long time.
"My dear brother, I am so happy too see you. How was your journey?" But the cold stare of his brother was enough to make him realize this was not a joyous visit.
"Herbert, I am afraid mother is not well. She would like to see you." The glass of Cognac shook in Herberts hand and he spat his cigar in it.
It hissed as its tip touched the liquid and then died out blowing up small wifs of smoke to say its last goodbye.
"We will have to go immidiatly, we will take the finest horses."
The stable boy prepared the horses for his master and Herbert assured his wife and daughter that he would see them again soon.
He never would.

Henric and Herbert Bane arrived at the house of their mother a mere eight hours later. Hillcrest manor was a beautiful, old place in the middle of Cherryoak wood.
The sun was setting behind the large trees to the West and collosal shadows fell of the trembling men.
Herbert jumped off the horse and ran for the front door. His brother went about calmer about his business and looked after his brother with an expression of pity.
"My mother, how is she?" He asked the maid and he quickly kissed her cheek as a polite, but hastened greeting.
"She is not feeling well, master Herbert. I am afraid she is asleep now, but I will take you to see her."
The maid was an old woman, not far from his mother in years, but as keen and fit as she had been when he was a young boy.
Mrs. Travers had been the maid of the family ever since she was a young girl herself, merely nineteen years of age.
She had grown out to be more then a maid, she was a friend and someone they could all turn to if they needed advice or a shoulder to cry on.
Her room was the second biggest in the house and Herbert, unlike his brother had always been content with this. He loved Mrs. Travers.
"She is better then she was earlier, Sir." Marsh Travers said with a glint of hope in her eyes. "I just gave her a cup of soup and she happily ate all of it."
They arrived in one of the guestrooms downstairs. It would be easier to take care of her here since her own room was rather far away in a corner of the east wing and the stairs were more and more difficult for the old maid to handle.
Many candles were lit and it gave the room a cozy feel. The fragile woman in the bed looked nothing like the woman he had known and loved for years.
Her boney hands crossed across her chest and her skeletal features only covered by the thinnest layer of skin through which her thin veins were clearly visible.
"Your sons are here Violet." Mrs Travers smiled at Herbert. "She seems to be awake, but she does not talk much. It requires a lot of energy, which she does not have right now."
Herbert nodded and walked towards his mother. "I will be in the lounge if you need me, Sir." And with these words Marsha left them alone, her eyes were wet and the fur underneath them showed small trails where the tears had rolled down.
Violet Bane looked up at her favorite son. She would never make this claim, but had always felt it in her heart.
"I am so glad to see you, my boy." Her voice was delicate and soft and her little blue eyes sparkled. She was truly happy to see him.
Henric peered around the corner and a flame in his was ignited, she had not even acknowledged that he was here. He closed the door and if they had not been so lost in their conversation they would have heard him lock the door from the outside.

Henric was always the least favorite son. Where Herbert would receive two hugs before they would fall asleep, he would get one.
And he hated his brother for it. In his mind, their over-affection for him had made Herbert the man he is today. A rich landowner with more money than would fit in his enormous house. Love by the people and blessed with a beautiful family.
And their lack of affection had turned him into what he is. The silent pervert, hungry for revenge, wealth and power. Never really good at anything.
Not today, though. Today he would show them all how good he was, how brilliant.
Henric walked towards the kitchen. From here he had a good view of the salon where poor Mrs. Travers was taking a nap.
He felt sorry for her. Spending so much time on other people without hardly ever taking any time for herself. Feel sorry was not part of his plan however and he quickly put those feelings aside.
On the table lay a cleaver she had used to cut up the vegetables for the stew. He picked it up and held it in the light that was cast by a small gaslamp.
The gleam it cast fell on his sad face. He would not have joy in what he was about to do, this was strictly business. The joy would come later.
Mrs. Travers was sound asleep. He looked over her, the woman he had known his entire life. She looked so peaceful.
The golden locket her husband had given her before his death slowly moved up and down on her chest. Henric gave her a soft kiss on the forehead. "Goodbye Mrs. Travers."
He swung the blade through the air and planted it firmly in her neck. Her eyes flew open and she tried to scream. A gruesome sound escaped her as she gurgled up, thick blood.
Not very experienced, but precisely he had managed to hit her artery and a thick stream of red liquid painted the floor a deep, dark red.
Mrs. Travers hand reached out to him and her tongue fell out of her mouth. Her horrible eyes were fixed on him and he looked away for a moment to regain his strength.
"I'm sorry, I'm so sorry." He could not stand to see her suffer and swung again.
The cleaver burried itself between her eyes. She shuddered and her legs twitched forcefully. Then it was over.
The cleaver fell from his hand and landed on the carpet with a dull thud.
He had made his first victim, but he had no time to stand here and mourn the loss of another bit of his sanity. Two more people would die tonight.
Henric took a large key ring from the belt around the maids mangled body. Her arm hang over the edge of the couch and droplets of blood formed at the tip of her middle finger.
They fell down on the carpet, creating a small pool. The disturbed man managed to look away from this macabre scene and hurried towards the shed behind the house.
Inside of it he found exactly what he was looking for. "Highly flammable." A smile curled up his lips and made him look even less attractive than his usual self.
He took two cans of the substance. They were heavy, but his goal was so close now, Henric would finally win for the first time in his life.
One of the cans he put in front of the door to his mothers guest room, he heard the faint sounds of their conversation. The last conversation this mother and her favorite son would ever have.
The other can he took with him to the lounge.
He took his wallet out of his jacket and threw the several bills inside of it on Mrs. Travers body, before soaking it in oil. It was all part of his grand scheme.
Oil poured in a small trail out of the can between the couch in the Salon, through the kitchen and all the way to the hall. The trail ended at the second can, which would cause a beautiful show of fireworks.
Henric walked back to Mrs. Travers once more, too say his farewells to her and too finish the job.
He took a cigarette from his pocket and a small book of matches. He lit a match and the hungry fire eagerly ate away the thin wood. He held it under his cigarette and took a deep and satisfying drag when the tip of the it started smoldering.
"Ashes to ashes." Henric muttered and dropped the burning match on the corpse of his favorite maid.
The flames slowly but surely spread across the body. Like an explorer discovering new land and claiming it for the glory of the nation.
Henric walked outside, leaving the flames behind. In search of a safe place, with a decent view of the happenings.
The flames reached the hallway.

==(Continuation of the previous post)==



"Estella started playing the piano. She is getting really good at it too, mama."
Herbert was proud of his little girl who ment the world to him. "I'm thinking of buying a grand piano for her."
"You spoil her too much."
"Perhaps." They both laughed and the colour returned to Violets thin cheeks.
"I am glad you are here son. Your visit gives me strength. I feel better already." Herbert kissed her forehead.
"You should rest, mama." He was sure he smelled something strange, something burning and walked to the door of the bedroom.
The door was locked, the handle did not move. "Henric? Henric, is this another one of your jokes? Henric?"
There was no reply, his brother stood outside and the flame sin the hallway had reached the second can.
A large explosion shook the house and shattered the sturdy door. Its handle hit Herbert against the side of the head and for a moment he saw nothing but bright coloured specs of light.
His mother yelled, she was too weak to leave the bed and the flames drew nearer. Herbert stumbeled to a wooden chair by the window and tried to lift it.
"Henric, please help us." He could hear his mother yell, her voice sounded distant, he was dizzy.
Herbert lifted the chair over his head and with all his remaining strength he threw it against the window. Neither chair nor window gave away.
Winters were very cold around these parts and people often had extra strong window for isolation.
Just before the flames reached the two unfortunate souls, Herbert could see the face of his treacherous brother in the window.
He smiled and waved them goodbye before he moved out of sight. The incredible heat started smoldering their clothes and their fur.
Herbert knelt down next to his mothers bed. The bed had caught fire and the situation was hopeless. They would die here, trapped like rats in a cage.
Fire starting eating away the flesh on his legs. His mother had passed away and had the horrible expression of a person who had died from fear on her face. Her sleeping gown was fully scorched and stuck to her body.
The skin up to her knees was a deep, dark black and Herbert threw up because of the horrible smell and the pain that shot through every inch of his body.
It was also the last thing he did. His eyes started melting and half of his face was eaten by the hungry flames and his heart beat for the last time.

The house lit up the night like a collosal torch. His plan had been perfect and he had shown them how clever he really was.
He still had the cigarette in his hand and took his last drag before throwing it away. The tobacco had never smelled this good before.
Both of the people who would leave him with an incredible amount of money were attenting a macabre barbecue party.
Tonight he was just Henric, nothing, but tommorow he would be one of the wealthiest men alive.
Herbert took his wallet out of his pocket and threw the empty thing in the soft grass. The perfect version of his conversation with the officers played through his head again, like it had done so often before.
"Yes officer, my mother was very ill. We came as quick as we could." He would cry and they would see how much he suffered from this terrible loss.
"I loved them and I tried to protect them. Those men came late in the evening and said my brother owed them money. I don't know how they found us here."
Descriptions of the men floated before his minds eye, two small time crooks who had once helped him get a shipment of fine cognac.
It would be their word against his. And he was a member of the Bane family, therefor his word was valued.
Henric walked over to a tree. Of course they would have beaten him up and left him for death, they were crooks, but they were smart enough to want to wipe out all of the evidence.
All he had to do was make sure he looked shaken up enough to appear dead and he smashed his face against the tree as hard as he could.
A sharp pain shot through his noise, this would have to look believable and he knew this was not enough. He smashed his face into the tree once more and chipped two teeth in the process.
He spat the shards out on the floor, his saliva was thick like a paste and red with blood.
Henric smashed his face into the tree a third time and with a sharp crunching sound he heard his own nose break.
The incredible pain made him dizzy and he threw up in the grass. "This wiv all be vorth it." He assured himself.
It only took one more try, he smashed his face into the tree and broke off half of one of his teeth.
His right eye was thick and sticky, the eyebrow invisible underneath the blanket of blood. He muttered a few incoherent things and sank down into his own blood and vomit.

I finished this a little faster than I expected. So here we go.

Estella had mourned the deaths of her father and grandmother.
Even the countless presents her uncle had given her did very little too ease the pain.
He had moved in with them shortly after the funeral to take care of the finances, the corporation and all of the other things men took care of.
Her mother had not liked it, but he had always been polite and helpful since the dead of her brother. And more importantly, he did not look at her daugher in the same way he used to.
They did not share the same bed, but they shared the same table and that was good enough for the both of them.
He had even come home one day from an overseas trip and had bought Estella a beautiful grand piano. He had bought dozens of dresses for Edwina, all the latest fashion.
This had been a year after Herbert died and the family was finally finding peace with the tragedy.
That night she made him his favorit meal, pot roast.
Many more months passed and Edwina and Henric had grown closer together.
The death of Herbert had changed him so much and the creep the woman had so hated had made place for a tender and caring man.
On one night the inevitable happend.
“Thank you for a wonderful meal, Edwina dear.” He took the dishes in his hands and wanted to clean them in the sink when she grabbed him by the wrist.
Estella had gone to bed early this evening and they were alone.
The meal went accompanied by a few glasses of wine and a fire had burned inside of her... the irony. The longing of a woman who has not know a man for so long.
The unholy desire she had felt for this man that was so good to her had bottled up inside of her and she could no longer resist the temptation.
“Edwina, I...” She pressed her lips against his and their tongues intertwined.
Their inhabitions were locked away behind an unpenetrable door.
Tonight, they would become one.

Henrics sorrow ran deep. He felt like a prisoner in death row who showed genuine sorrow, but was believed by no one.
He had no one to talk too about his terrible secret. About the childish feelings of jelousy and his hunger for power that had made him commit the unforgivable sin.
He had everything now, but he would trade it all if he could be freed from this burden.
That was untill the night he made love to sweet Edwina. Poor, innocent Edwina who had lost her husband at such an early age. Edwina who had given him a reason to carry on.

Estella turned seveteen and the years that came had brought with it immense beauty.
She had grown up to be the most attractive girl in town and made many heads turn as she walked by. Estella was not vein however.
She knew her beauty was a gift and would not look down on anyone in her life.
Her grades were good and she never spoke to anyone without being spoken to first.
If things had gone differently, she would have grown up to be the perfect wife and mother.
She enjoyed sitting at uncle Henrics desk as she did that fateful afternoon.
She inspected the globe of the planet and wanted to learn all of the town names by memmory.
Estella was studying the places near Oakloma. They had funny names, one of them was actually called Twinklebottom, when her eye caught a loose brick in the wall next to a little cabinet.
Curiousity was a sin most girls could not evade and she pried the brick from the wall.
It revealed a small book and a dusty, old wallet.
She grabbed the book, it was a small one with lots of pages. It opened up and the first line read “I have to write down what I did or I will lose my mind.” Estella recognized his uncles handwriting and continued to read.
With every line she read, little and innocent Estella became more like the monster she would one day be.

Henric felt fantastic today. Edwina and he had made love like a pair of young rabbits who were experiencing their first venture into the realms of the lands of lust and passion.
The memmory of his late brother seemed as distant as the first neighbouring star in he night sky.
Finally he could devote himself entirely to pleasing her. And the sounds that escaped her as she gently bit his shoulder were proof of this.
He was on his way to tell Estella that they were going to take a short vacation together soon. And that Estella would be responsible for the house, he knew he could trust her.
Henric had to be careful however since they had not yet told her how they felt about eachother. The both of them were not sure how she would take it after the loss of her father.
The door to the study swung open and he entered, but stopped dead in his tracks after a few paces. In the letters a message was written on the wall.

“You killed my father
and fu*cked my mother.”

The white paint ran out like thick tears. Inside the wall a brick was missing and terror struck him. He looked at his desk and the drawer in which he hid his gun was open.
The door behind him slammed shut and when he turned around he looked into the eyes of his adopted daughter.
“You've killed my father... and fuc*ed my wh*re of a mother.” Her face was bitter as if the words escaping her left a nasty taste.
He wanted to say something, but what could he say. She told the truth and he had done those things. Thick masscara ran down her beautiful cheeks and coloured them black.
“You killed my father and...” Estella did not finish her sentence. Had Henric looked down he would have seen the gun resting in her hand.
With a thunderous roar, the gun released its seed and impregnated Henrics heart with a batch of explosive gunpowder.
“Let's see how you like it.” She looked at him and saw the gleam escape from his eyes. “Henric? Estella?” His name before hers. That's how it was, thats how much the man that had killed her father mattered to her mother.
She started to wonder wheter either of them ever thought of Herbert when he was busy pounding her. Defelining the body out of which she came and it made her even angrier.
Edwina entered the room and screamed at the top of her lungs.
Her lover lay motionless on the floor in a puddle of his own blood. The second man she had ever loved was also the second man that was brutally taken from her.
“Why did you do this?” Her mother screamed at Estella, her voice trembling with fear and pain.
She did not look at Estella but took her man in her arms and pressed his face against her bossom. His blood was still warm and it covered her. The last warm touch he could give her.
“You betrayed my father with his own brother. You invited him into your bedroom and into your body.” She thought of all of the despicable things they had done to eachother.
There was just one question Estella wanted answered. “Did you love him?”
Her mother sobbed quietly. “Yes, I loved him.”
Two bullets blasted apart Edwina's face and her dead head came to rest on his strong chest.
And that was the first step towards the creation of Estella Bane.



Her eyes had healed. Her vision was still blurry, but the body consists of a number of delicate machines. Quiet soon they would repair themselves, her pupils would take their normal shape and the pain in her head would be gone.
Estella had never forgotten that day all those years ago. She will have her revenge again and she would deal with everyone that would get in her way.


(I think I will have chapter 49 done by tommorow.)

Beautiful, I love it, very inspiring.

Awesome.

I've had part of a chapter lying around for a while now. Hopefully your new chapters will give me something to flesh it out with.

BTW: For anyone using the treacle.hewwo.com address, the working address for the story archive is http://www.alister.eu/jazz/story.html. I'm currently tweaking some things, so the new chapter will be up in a few days' time. Also, by my (rather conservative) reckoning, the next chapter should be 50.

Thank you so much Alister. I have been looking for that link and I guess you could be right about the chapter indexing. I think I may not have counted the previous flashback as a full chapter, but I will make a few adjustments.
Glad too see you are still around.

(I will post bits of this chapter as I go along. And yes, this should be chapter 50. SUCH A MILESTONE. HUGS FRIENDS, HUGS ALL AROUND!!!)

Chapter 50: Transfer.

“What are we going to do with this one?” The large demon was rather tired of these questions. Mister Parker had ordered them to take extra good care of their celebrity guest and here he found himself sitting.
Surrounded by idiots that lacked the imagination and creativity to come up with anything on their own. He looked at the square, metallic clock on the edge of his desk. Ten in the evening and he had been guarding the prisoner for seventy-eight hours now for a meager 5 silverlings an hour. Not the best wage, but it is hard for a demon to find a job around a place like this. Go figure.
Almost he had found the chance for a quick nap until Parkers men had payed them a visit and had taken little miss zombie off their hands..
Garn stood up and rubbed his massive fingers through his eyes in a futile attempt to ward off the sleep. He pushed a guard out of the way and told him to make a pot of coffee.
The occupant of cell 29 in cell block H5 was a mess.
Ever since his arrival here he had been subjected to a variety of torturuing techniques; Barb wire, electricity, waterboarding. His co-workers had the time of their lives and evil laughter went hand in hand with the screams of terror.
Many other prisoners would have given in long ago or at least died, but this hares will was strong. Garn grabbed his gun and entered the cell. This had gone on long enough.


“What are we going to do with this one?” Tony sat on the cold, stone floor of his prison cell and stared out in between the metallic bars that kept him in place.
It was a question that had been playing around in his head for a while now.
What were they going to do with him? He looked down his body with his one good eye. The one one seemed impossible to open and caused him quiet a bit of annoyance, the stinging and itching lured his hand towards his eye, but he could not give in to it for fear of causing more harm.
A few scratches here and there covered his arms and legs. Dark blue bruises were spread over his body and shone through his light fur. Like bits of blueberry in creamy, vanilla ice cream. As far as he could see, the damage was not all that grave. As far as he could see... If they would hold a mirror in front of his face and would show him that his right ear was missing he would most likely not have reacted as casually as he did now.
His most important body part had been able to escape the gruesome tortures of the past few days. He smiled at that though and immediately regretted it.
“ No smiling, I will keep that in mind.” His mouth was dry with blood and dust.
“Go get me a pot of coffee.” He heard Garn outside.
His good 'friend' and the general that was put in charge of this prison.
His ruthlessness on the battlefield had made him the right man for this unthankful job. The general was also the man that had ripped an ear from his attractive head. 'Tony, Tony, Tony, how did you end up in this mess? You had it all buddy, fame, fortune, and a different model to lay every other week.”
And now he sat here in a four by four prison cell with all the luxuries you can find in such a place. Stale bread, lukewarm water and a comfortable place to lay your head, right next to your makeshift toilet.
The worst thing however was this damn feeling in his stomach whenever he thought of Michelle. The tingling sensation that ran across his spine whenever he thought of her lifeless eyes that sparkled with life. And the pain he felt over her not being here with him.
Sure, she wasn't perfect; The intoxicating smell that made that of vomit seem bleak in comparison, the see-through skin, the fact that he would never have the chance to sit down with her for a romantic dinner and the eye that had the annoying habit of popping out of her socket.
But unlike the other woman he had known, she was pure and sound of mind. Charming in her own way and attractive, for the eye of love did not see the swarm of flies feasting on her dead skin. Above all though, she was real. Oh, the irony.

Garn stood in front of the celldoor knowing he had nothing to fear. His prisoner had stopped trying to break out of his cell after the first twenty attempts and the twenty punshiments that followed. Slowly the iron door slid open and Garn stepped in. A dark rat that was enjoying bits of an unfinished lunch spread over the floor scurried away and hid in a crack in the wall. The tall demon kicked the bowl away that had contained the lunch earlier and sat down opposite of the broken man. The two of them looked at eachother for a moment and Garn could feel the hate behind those blue eyes burn into his every being.
“I guess hate would not be a strong enough word for the feelings you have towards me and my men, Tony. Having said that, I can assure you that if it were up to me you would be dead.”
The demon smiled, uncovering a row of sharp teeth. Like the gates of hell they sat there and tempted him to make a fist and punch them out.
“I appriciate that Garn.” Tony said back trying not to make the resentment he felt shine through.
“It is not up to me however. I must answer to a master just as everyone. The guards answer to their supervisors who in turn answer to the ministers. And the ministers in their turn answer to their kings. The man at the top creates falls gods to grant him the illusion that he has someone to answer to.”
“Listen, are you going anywhere with this because I have had a long day.”
Garn waved the gun around and Tony took the hint. “I just want you to know that all of this needless suffering is not my idea of a good time, but Parker wants answers. And he pays me well to provide him with those answers. I just want you to know its nothing personal.” A hint of respect shone through in the voice of the demon.
“I can't tell you what I do not know Garn. I wish I could so we could get this over with, but alas.”
Gunfire and a deafening roar bounced off the walls of the cramped cell. Garn had fired a bullet at the rat and had taken his little head clean off, he twitched a bit before he lay still.
His last supper still held firmly between his paws.
“A lack of sleep has caused me to be slightly more agitated than usual. I warn you now Tony you do not want Gary Parker to come here and pick you up like he picked up your little girlfriend.”
That last remark did it and Tony wanted to climb to his feet. Garn smiled, half relieved that he was finally going to leave this all behind him and aimed the gun at the young mans head.
“You (-), you (-)!” Before Garn could fire his gun one of his cronies came running in.
“Wait sir! It's mister Parker on the phone, sir.”
Garn answered the phone and kicked Tony down to the ground. “Now you've done it. I warn you, no more Greenthorpe fairy tales like you tried to tell us the last time.”
Tony gently muttered “They were there... I swear.” His voice went lost to all who were there to hear however.
Hushed whispers found their way into his cell and the words were lost in the wind.
“I have good news for you Tony. Parkers men are on their way to pick you up.”


The van holding six guards and their driver drove across the bridge over the deep gorge surrounding the gloomy castle several hours later. The lava gave of such an intense heat that the passengers felt nauseous.
“Let us try to get this over with as soon as we can, men.” The driver was an old hare with a small pair of binoculars balancing on the bridge of his nose.
His eyes were focused on the long bridge ahead and small droplets of sweat ran down his round face and fell into his lap. One mistake on this bridge and they would fall down to be consumed by the fire. Two colossal and strong, wooden doors slowly opened as the jaws of a terrible creatures.
Tony Waterbecks small figure would give anyone that would view it in this setting a feeling of pity.
He was wrapped in thick iron chains and held by two demons who furiously licked their lips and let their eyes role in their deep and dark sockets.
Sharp pain shot through the young mans scars as the cold metal dug into his already battered flesh.
“General, it is good to see you.” The driver must be a convincing liar for Garn smiled at him.
“He is all yours Denver, take good care of him.” Garn signed his name on a piece of parchment and handed it back to the driver. Sleep was very close now and the thought of a warm bed filled him with a certain happiness.
“Oh, we would not want to give damaged goods to mister Parker, now would we?” His nervous laugh revealed the fear he carried in his heart concerning this fort and its owners.
“Well, not anymore damaged then he already is. Have a safe trip Denver.” Garn turned around and saluted Tony Waterbeck. The brave man that had not revealed the location of his friends.

The new governor of Peddleburg sat in his most comfortable chair.
He was playing a game of darts while enjoying a drink and the music one of his servants was providing in the background. Soft sounds from his violin carried out of the window and over the orange grove to the west of his house. The view in the summer was magnificent and brought the governor much delight depending on with whose eyes he viewed it.
“Very good, mister Parker. A succession of magnificent throws.” The servants that always were close by his side has become masters in the noble art of kissing as* over the years.
This one in particular. He walked over to the board and retrieved the arrows for his master.
Parker had thrown a five, a three and a twelve. Not as good as the as*-kisser would want him to believe. “Thank you, Clarence.” Parker took the arrows and stroked the back of the young servants hand. His youthful eyes were full of horror which was all the more of a turn-on for the demon inside of him. The weather outside was beautiful on this particular day and the orange grove underneath his window stood in bloom. Bright orange and light green filled his field of vision. They say it is often the calmest before the storm.
A man ran inside without knocking on the door. This one of Parkers many annoyances.
“My lord, I bring troubling news.” One of Parkers arrows had just hit the sixteen and the bringer of the news stood out of breath in the door opening.
The other two arrows lay in Parkers hand and he squeezed them tightly, suppressing the urge to jam them in the throat of the closest person he could plant them into.
“Miss Estella Bane had the vampire in captivity, but unfortunately he managed to escape and...”
The man started crying softly, for he knew what kind of man governor Parker was. “...So did the others.” Parker got up out of his comfortable chair and he was not a happy bunny.
“Everyone out, now!” He put emphasis on the last word and his servants ran. So did the messenger who had, without his knowledge of the fact, not been addressed.
“Everyone, but you messenger. How about a drink, old boy? Its a long walk.”
“Thank, thank you sir.” The man stuttered and a wet spotted formed in the front of his pants.
Urine dripped down his leg and onto the recently polished floor and he was sure he would die now. “Its not your fault, old man. You were just doing your job, but that vampire is rather important in the grand scheme of things you see.” The man swallowed his drink and Parker poured him another. “There, there now.” Gary walked back to his desk.
'Oh god, he's going to stab me to dead with a letter opener. That's how it is. I am going to die.”
His hand shook and he quickly downed his second glass of strong alcohol.
All the man who was now his greatest nightmare did however was take a 100 coin bill and gave it to the messenger. “Go buy yourself something nice my good man. Or perhaps a gift for the wife.”
The man sank to his knees and cried. “Oh, thank you mister Parker, sir. Thank you.”
“That's alright fellow. Now please, stand up and call for the others.” The man bowed once more and walked to the exit. The sun was shining down on him as he walked home safe and sound to his wife and family.
“Clarence, please. Hand me the arrows for I wish to play a game.”
“Of course, my lord Parker. I am your most humble servant.”
And just as the servant had given Parker what he had asked for, the former started stabbing the young boy with the dart arrows. His arms spread wide in front of him and the stare of death drawing closer in his blank eyes. A scream was heard, but ignored by all. This was their life and their fate. And the better they obeyed, the better their chances of survival.

The white van was on its way to Parkers building and would arrive in a few hours.
“I like it when the roads are quiet.” The guard in the passenger seat looked out of his window.
“And our package has been behaving nicely. These jobs are the best, in, out and a nice, fat cheque to take home to your wife.”
“The best part is when the wives show their gratitude.” The two man laughed and were caught by surprise when their truck hit a bump in the road.
“(-), what was that? Do you think we hit something?”
“Something or someone. Go take a look.” They were mercenaries, payed to kill and who killed to get payed. Not because they liked it, but because it just so happened to be the only thing they had ever been good at. They had never killed anyone because they had a lust for blood however. Nor had they ever liked taking the life of someone less fortunate than them. So the man in the passenger seat nodded and left the car.
A little window in the side of the van was slid open. It provided little light into the cramped back. “Everything alright Charlie?” One of the men asked and thick, blue smoke emerged from the window. The smell of their favorite cigars and for them the job was already finished. Piece of cake, right? “We hit something, I'm going to take a look. I'll let you know if somethings wrong.”
“I had rather you didn't.” The man smiled and closed the window behind him.
In the middle of the road the truck had left behind lay a man, motionless.
Tire tracks ran across his chest and his face. Over sized roadkill, collateral damage.
“Damn it.” Charlie muttered, he might have had low values, but had a good heart overall.
“What's happening Charlie?” The man with the crooked nose and the glass shouted out of his window without looking back. He wanted to go, only a few more hours and they would have enough money for a whole lot of good beers and a couple of nice prozzies.
But Charlie didn't answer, he got down on his knees to examine the guy a little closer.
His lower jaw was shattered and thick mud and blood ran through his dark, purple fur.
No breathing, this guy was dead. Charlie averted his eyes and wanted to get up to walk back. This guy was dead and there was nothing they could do, or so he thought.
A vainy, purple hand shot up and closed itself around the young mans thick, muscular neck.
“Wa ih 'e? Wa ih 'onee?” The man uttered words that the young mercenary soldier could not understand. His jaw was smashed and his tongue hung out of his mouth like a sock puppet without a master. “''Ony, Ony 'ater'eck. 'e ih é?” The jaw started healing itself slowly, flesh crept up like the sea during a tide and covered the bones and blood.
The shattered sockets his eyes had sunken into restored itself and slowly pushed the eyes back up, all the time looking at the gobsmacked soldier, who was too stunned to utter a word.
“Tony Waterbeck, where can I find him?” Louie said when his jaw allowed him and he got up from the ground. Charlie finally realized he was holding a gun and he attempted to open fire on the vampire, but the monster in front of him was too quick and pulled the gun from the trembling hands of the soldier. “Bloodshed could have been avoided.” And with these words the vampire sank his teeth into poor Charlies artery. Blood gushed out of the wound and sprayed down Louie's throat, finishing the restoration process and restoring his strength.

The vampire had arrived at Neverberg Castle a little on the late side. The truck had barely left and he had to ask a demon for information. The red beast had only started talking when he was hanging upside down the lava.
After having burried the evidence of his visit he rushed after it.
A short journey later later he had found it and had placed himself in front of the tires.
From there on out luck would take over the direction of this plan. And so far, it had been on his side. He placed the body of the guard on the ground where he himself had been a moment before and covered it in mud and leaves. Then he grabbed the rifle and snuck up to the drivers side of the vehicle. The driver had just lit a cigarette and was waiting for his firend to return.
There was a quick tap on the window and the driver, who was under the impression that whatever the van must've hid was dead opened the door.
“About time Charlie, what did we hit?” Louie appeared in the door opening and pointed the rifle at the mans fance. “You hit me.”
He fired two quick shots, two men down. He grabbed the drivers gun out of his belt as well as the car keys and put them inside of the jacket that seemed far to warm for this time of the year.

Gunfire could be heard coming from outside.
“You three, go take a look and see what is going on there.” Tony sat silently between the two men that stayed behind to guard him. The coolness of the thick chains now soothed his many wounds and he closed his eyes in an attempt to focus on the voices he could hear outside.
The doors of the van opened and he could smell the sweet, pine trees. The smell of the forest and that of freedom. He heard men fighting for their lives outside, guns were fired and curses were yelled to go lost in the thickness of the forest. And then there was silence, a deafening silence. “Damn it, what the hell is going on out there.”
Louie jumped inside of the van and the man on the right of Tony raised his gun at him, but a quick and rather sudden move from Tony brought him down to his knees and made him bump his head into the ground. The other mercenary threw his weapon on the floor and walked past a growling Louie as he quietly begged for his mommy.
“It is good to see you Tony.” Louie smiled, the first genuine smile Tony had ever seen on his face ever since he met him in the house that now seemed so far away.
“It is good to see you too, Louie. Now, if you kindly.” He nodded at the lock that bound the chains together. “Ah, of course, of course.” Without a warning Louie fired a shot and scared the living daylight out of Tony, but he picked the lock clean off.
“I hope you can drive.” Louie handed Tony the keys, he felt bruised and broken, but his sudden liberation raised his spirits and he accepted them. “Lets see if we can find the others.”

(To be continued.)



---


Well, I hope you liked it. I have another chapter coming up that is almost done.
All I have to do is edit it a little, type it into my computer (as it is written on paper) and find a suitable ending to it.
Anyway, expect to see it here soon and thanks for reading.

I will make a short list of people who are still writing here.
If you still want to write and your name is not on it. Send me a PM.
(And visa versa)

ToxicBunny
DoubleDutch
n0
SlaYo
NinjaPixie

(Such a list, magnificent.)

Hello everyone. I just finished the first part on Chapter 51. A bit more on Gary and I will describe the journey of Tony and Louie in the continuation of Ch. 51 which I will post as soon as I get the chance to copy it. It is Saturday now and I have other plans.

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Chapter 51: The people beneath the surface (1)


These hands were not his hands.
These legs were not his legs.
The dead man that lay in his bed had neither been his lover nor his victim.
Bruhns horrible presence was always with him and in him and laughed aloud as he mourned the countless victims that had died to satisfy a freakish lust. The poor people that had coloured the hands that were both his and not his red with blood.
Bruhn was dormant and he had some time to wallow in self pity as he had often done before, because that was all his existence meant now.

Gary remembered the cave and the drawing of the caged monster he had unleashed all those years ago. Innocent child's play disturbed.
The beast stood scribbled on the wall that lay below the ground.
Walls that were filled with archaic symbols he had not understood.
Now, years later he knew they had warned him. Told him to turn around and leave as fast as his little legs could carry him. Run and never look back.
Gary Parker, aged 36 and the youngest governor there had ever been looked at his own visage in the mirror. Only one pair of eyes looked back at him. These precious moments were rare and far in between.
He had not felt the second soul inside of him during the first few years after he had released it.
Sure, he had occasionally bullied and would ring a doorbell or two without waiting for the angered look on the owners face. That is what kids his age did however. He had never caused anything or anyone bigger than a fly any harm, but Bruhn was there.
Waiting under the surface of the tranquility of his childhood.
The first ripple in the surface appeared after he had graduated at the top of his class.
He had a few drinks with his good friend, Kia. A lovely young girl who had admired him and had enjoyed his friendship for many years. They had grown up together and Gary had been like the brother she had never had. Kind, charming and chivalrous and deprived of the thoughts young boys always seemed to have.
They walked through the park after a night of celebration for they had both finished the first act in the stage play that is life. Young Gary offered Kia his coat as the air grew colder. Unaware that the sudden coldness in the air came from a different source than the wind that was carried in from the East. He had meant to walk her home, but Bruhn had different plans to finish this lovely evening. A veil covered his eyes and took his sight as well as his chivalrous nature. He remembered the screams and the gasps for breath. Those futile attempts to suck in a little evening air. There was no memmory of the things Bruhn had done to her. No recollection of her pleading and the begging as hands that were not his forced her legs apart.
Gary came to his senses when Bruhn had finished. It was as if awaking from a nightmare although the nightmare had only just started. Her naked body lay in the grass that had a deep grey colour under the pale moonlight. Mutilated and beaten, her tongue lolled out at an unnatural angle and the silky, purple dress she had felt so pretty in before ripped through the middle from the waist to her chin. Gary tasted blood and flesh in his mouth and he ran. He ran as fast and as far as he could until he sank down and fell flat on his face. When he woke up the next morning, Bruhn told him what would happen from now on and had shown him who would be in control from no won. Every time Gary refused, there would be mental torture. A torture so intense that he could physically feel it.
Reflected in the mirror was his attractive, young face. The face that made people feel safe and secure around him. The face of a murderer and a liar.
The young man behind him had been attracted by it and was lured into Bruhns trap.
The monster had used the boy to fulfill his physical needs and to provide nourishment.
A pair of scissors lay on a grooming table and Gary moved his hand towards it casually, still looking at himself in the mirror. Never moving his sight away from his own eyes, to see wheter Bruhn had not woken up. The eyes in which the self hatred ran deeper than the roots of any tree.
Deeper than the deepest well in the lowest valley. In those eyes he found the strength he needed to accomplish the job he had in mind.
Tonight he would plant the scissors in his throat and end the terrible reign of Bruhn.
Before Bruhn had found the strength it needed to leave him and become a physical entity that would bring the people of Carrotus to its knees and reign supreme and bloody. Bruhns fleshy vessel was all that stood between everything and nothing.
His grip around the scissors tightened. All he had to do now was stab and the people of Carrotus would be safe in their beds tonight and all of the nights ahead. The evil that had crept into the minds of people over the past few decades would disappear and everyone would wake up revitalised and fresh tomorrow. Pure of heart and sound of mind and with a clear goal for the future. The civil war on Diamondus would end and people would lower their weapons, destroy their weapons. The weapons that had destroyed so many of their brethren, turtles and rabbits alike. And the weapons would disappear over the years because the true demon had been banished from this realm and had taken everything that is evil with it.
Flowers would blossom on top of the cave from which he had escaped those thirty years ago.
Fruit and vegetables would grow on the dark lands that housed his servants who lay there waiting for him to call on them.
The beast inside woke up and the fire burned behind Garys eyes. Another attempt to end his life gone up in smoke and it would be long before he would get another chance. Too long perhaps.
“Go to sleep now Gary.”

Shiggity shiggity shwa!

I gotta say, that was almost enough to give me inspiration to write another piece! I already have some ideas...

Oh that's brilliant, what a refreshing restart. Makes me glad I didn't post my chapter.

Perfect, just perfect.

“Are these edible?” Tony ran after Louie and showed him a handful of small, yellowish berries.
They had stayed on the road and had driven half a day, but the number of police cars had increased and being wanted men, they had decided it was better to continue on foot.
After leaving the road they had traveled further North towards their friends in the big city.
The journey had taken them through fields, plains and marshes. Rich nature and a big diversity of trees amazed them and the wounds Tony had, had healed at a good rate.
They had walked for two days and nights. Only stopping for a quick nap where the density of trees and tall grass had allowed them to remain unseen by curious eyes.
A lake lay to the left of them and reflected the setting sun in it, casting a comforting orange glow that made them feel at ease. Reeds kept them covered and hidden as they made their way to the village of Erdin, near the hills that separated the southern and the northern lands like a natural border. “They are edible, but they also work as a laxative so suit yourself.” Louie said casually as he wondered how Thomas, Yakira and the others were doing. If they were still alive at all.
“That shouldn't make much difference from the food I had in the prison.” Tony said, but after a short moment of consideration he threw the handful of berries aside.
His stomach growled in protest, deprived of the good meals it had been used to.
Apart from a decent meal he could use a warm bed and a fresh pair of clothes. His escape had given him strength however and the vampire was good company to have around on trips in the wild. He seemed to have a lot of knowledge of the outside world and climbed through the grass with the experience of a hunter and the grace of a thief.
He had not been much of a talker however and the majority of the past two days they had spent in silence, walking and enjoying their solitude, relative safety and the beauty of the flora and fauna. Two tiny, blue birds fluttered through the sky singing one of their songs in their high pitched calls before they came to rest on the bank of the water.
Rather suddenly the lush overgrowth ended and they stood in a clear open circle of short, yellow grass that looked like it had been dead for years.
Louie stood still and called to his senses. He had the strange feeling they were being watched.
His nose picked up the scent of the flowers and animals that roamed the land.
His eyes moved over the flat countryside, clear sparkling rivers and colourful overgrowth.
His taste picked up the sweet taste of the cadaver of a small animal several feet away from them and the bitter of the edible moss on the bank of the water.
The air was unnaturally thick here and unusually warm as was picked up by his touch, thousands of nerves that ran like freeways through his body and ended in a dead end just underneath his skin. Something else was different about the air here as well, it was intoxicating and pleasant to be in. Like the temporary buzz after a glass of sweet,red wine with which you end a pleasant meal on a hot summer evening.
“Let us give our feet some rest here.” Louie sat down and looked at the sun that seemed to sink into the earth on the horizon. Tony enjoyed the feeling of the cool, grass against his painful body.
The dew on the grass seemed strange when he took into account the warmth in the air, but it could not bother him for long. The small, green blades of grass kissed his skin and he felt relieved. As if an itch he had felt for all of his life was finally scratched at.
“This moss is edible and high if protein and vitamins.” Louie plucked a handful of moss out of the sticky and wet, brown patch next to the river and handed it to Tony.
Tiny fibers crawled in Tonys hand as he accepted it, like little worms trying to escape from his grasp and dripped through the cracks between his fingers and onto his filthy and torn jeans.
The smell it gave off was as horrible as the prospect of this being his lunch was.
“Are you sure this is not (-)?” Tony looked at Louie with suspicion in his eyes.
“Quiet sure.”
“Don't tell anyone about this or I will stake you.”
The brown and crawly good rested in the cup of his hand as he brought it towards his mouth.
It slithered through his troath and begun its journey to his empty stomach. It tasted surprisingly pleasant, like the bean soup his mother used to make for him. Even if a bit more spicy.
The atmosphere and the hunger set his initial inhibitions aside and he scooped up more fists full of the brown moss.
“You know, it actually is (-), technically.” Louie sounded apologetic and Tony, his mouth covered in what he believed to be crap looked up at him. Fire lit up in his heart. “I'm going to kill you.”
Louie started laughing, a chuckle at first but the small stream of laughter soon turned into a waterfall of pleasure and tears of joy sprang in his eyes.
The relief he felt was so intense that it filled him up with joy. Tony realised it had been a joke and after flinging a handful of brown goo at the vampire's head. He joined in and soon they were both holding their sides and the sound of joy rolled across the land.

What should have been a short break had turned into a long rest.
Tony Waterbeck and Louie Greenthorpe had talked for hours and had found out they had many things in common. For hours they talked about theater and poetry and Louie enjoyed listening to Tony and his wonderful tales of life on Technoir. Often amazed at the technological advancements made there and how long it took for a neighbouring planet to see the benefits.
Tony in turn was treated to stories about the history of this planet and the wonderful account of the parties that took place in the mansions of the rich and famous. Louie described everything with such attention to detail that it felt as if Tony was there with him.
There was something in the air they said jokingly, that made them feel as if they had drank several bottles of liquor and they started singing songs around a fire they had made as the evening had set in. Underneath the stars they sang a drunk mans song.

“The turtle gave the hare, quiet a scare
as they walked down the old road
Never and no more would it feel like before
when he met his mother, the toad
Her green and spotted skin
her body fair and slim
In the eyes of a rabbit in love.
He married her and never again
would he walk down the old road.”

They laughed as the wounds caused by Tonys captors healed up at an unusual speed.
When the evening fell the two men slumbered away and had the deepest and longest sleep they had in a long time.

The morning came and brought with it several oddities.
“Can you hear that? Is that bell chiming?” The floor shook every time a bell chimed.
Its hollow sound could be heard coming from below the surface and Louie put his ear against the ground. Tony was feeling slightly intoxicated still and dreamily look at the ripples the chiming of the bell caused on the surface of the water.
“It is probably carried over from the next village by the wind.” Tony took a small twig and started scribbling in the sand. Louie could not believe the young mans casually attitude towards this oddity. His drunken state of the night before had vanished rapidly and he moved through the grass. The chiming was getting louder as he crawled deeper into the grass.
In the mud a face formed as lines were dragged into it. An amateuristic portrayal of a young mans longing to be with the girl he missed. “Where are you.” He jumped up when he heard a scream from Louie. The fields were empty save for the young man who now followed the prints in the ground his friend had left with a steady pace.
He took a few more steps, the chiming grew louder.
Three more steps, the sound of the bells entered his body and started pounding small hammers against his brain.
Two more steps, it formed a spectral fist and closed it around his heart.
The ground shook terribly and his first thought was running away from this place, back to the safety of the river bank, but before he had the chance to run away the ground opened up and swallowed him whole, dragging him down into the depths and nearer to the chiming of the bells.

The overnight stay was predestined and they had both felt it. Had they taken a different path they could have been in the next town already.
Sometimes fate had a different plan however and the vampire rushed through the thick blackness of the ground at high speed. Burrowing himself into the heart of Carrotus like an oversized mole.
The bell still chimed through every inch of his being and he felt he was getting closer. Before long the ground opened up beneath him and spat him out into a pitch black cavern.
He landed on the earth and the force that he felt slamming against his back made him cough.
Cold blood trickled from his left elbow, but the damage could have been bigger. He slowly pushed himself up and with much effort he had managed to get on his feet just as Tony fell from through the hole in the ground and slammed into Louie.
“Oh, damn. I think I broke something.” The young fighter pilot said. He did not feel any pain, only a slight shaving on his right knee.
“I think you broke my leg.” Louie replied as he pushed Tony off of him and rolled around.
“Are you alright.”
“I think I will be alright, it will heal itself in a moment. I think we should sit still and not touch anything until my leg has mended.”
“That sounds like a good plan. I can't see a hand in front of my eyes.”
And as if by magic, the last word that had left Tonys mouth seemed to be accompanied by a very small light the size of a firefly. It floated towards the ceiling of the cave and hang there quietly.
“Thats impossible.” Tony stared at it with his mouth wide open.
The flesh of Louie's leg was mending itself and he stared at the spec of light, just as lost for words as Tony had been. Well, a little more perhaps.
The light gradually grew in strength and fell over the walls lighting up the cave very slowly, like the sun rising behind a line of trees.
“We were drawn here, weren't we. I mean, as if by, by magic?” Tony hesitated while speaking out the last word, but he was sure that something unusual had happened to them. And this cave lay at center of it. The light crept further down the walls and was reflected off of several large, glass windows depicting unusual scenes that were hard to make out with the amount of dust and sand on them, gentle cracks were heard, a symphony of glass and rotting wood as it groaned under the pressure of the sand that tried to push its way through them.
Wooden benches lay on their side, the fine brown wood with which they had been build had turned a charcoal black over the ages and gave them a haunting feel. In the middle of the large room lay a crystal chandelier that must have fallen from the roof and lay in ruin. Crystal shards shattered and half hidden under a mixture of sand and dust that formed a natural carpet.
Against both the Western and Eastern wall stood large, rusted candle stands. Thick red candle stumps in them and their wax dripped over the holder. Like wax stalactites they hung there forever. Towards the north lay a marble altar on its side, missing a large chunk at the base and overgrown with dirty, dark green weeds.
“It's an ancient cathedral. I can't believe it, an ancient cathedral covered in the sands of time.”
Louie was astonished over the magnificence of the building.
Small rabbit-like and angelic creatures were carved into the walls. Beautiful beings with faces as delicate as the first morning of spring in the northern lands that brought an end to the long period of darkness.
“The joy never ends with you, does it?” Tony was just as astonished, he took a small golden broach in his hand. It was a depiction of the goddess Carrotus. Her beauty far surpassed anything he had ever seen before, her golden hair lay over her bare bosom and her hands lay folded in her lap. Her eyes were small sapphires of the most enchanting green. This object was an archaeological discovery of incredible proportions and it just lay here, like ripe fruit for the picking.
From behind one of the benches that lay on his side a man rose slowly. The light grew stronger yet and they could see him, a very thin figure clad in dusty robes that smelled of mold and which seemed several sizes to large for his frail body.
A thick white beard hid a face with skin, yellowed like parchment and cracked and grey teeth stood in his mouth like old and mossy tombstones.
His eyes were dark as the night and lay deep in their sockets. He spoke slowly and deeply and a terrible shiver rolled down the spines of the men that listened. “Would you care for a cup of tea?”

I noticed that there is an inconsistancy in the story.
The end of n0's chapter tells of how Louie Greenthorpe stood by the edge of Castle Greenthorpe, ready to make the jump.

Dear n0, if you could make a small adjustment and make it so that he sees tire tracks and goes on his way to question a demon. That would work much better.
Sorry to bother you guys.

I assumed he jumped in, found they had taken Tony, and then jumped back out... or something.

That'd be silly, but sure. I can live with that.

Who knows what happens off the scenes? It was probbably a daring rescue of some sort.

Hello DD, have you found the time over the course of the last month to finish your chapter? Just asking.

Whoa, what a time for my laptop to go bust huh? Sheesh, I AM overdue, best get this thing posted then (And the bloody tech support STILL hasn't actually helped me...)


* * *


What is most scary about zombies, what makes them more dangerous than, say, your usual homicidal killer, is that they just keep coming. You can blow them up, slice them, dice them, and whatever's left will still be crawling around after you. They don't need to be particularly fast, or smart, or strong, because they never give up. And they never, ever eat each other.


* * *

It was cold, and it was damp. Sunrise was still several hours away and Ciro wouldn't be able to knock off until then. Guard duty called for a certain type of soldier. Certainly not the creative type, or the easily bored, but the obedient and trustworthy. Ciro, along with the rest of his company spent their nights guarding Castle Carapace from anyone and anything. It was their duty to keep an eye out for anyone approaching the building, and to request I.D. from them, before reporting them to superior officers. They spent their time standing around, with wet feet and cold hands, and quite often a warming drink. They were not a defense force per se but rather a form of living warning system; all they had for defense was one small pistol, but they carried an intriguing amount of other equipment; night vision goggles, motion detectors (For cold blooded intruders) and a small radio tag tuned to their pulse. A sustained increase, or stopping of the signal would instantly alert those higher up, and start a real response.

Fortunately, nothing much had ever happened on the watch, not for years. The odd false alarm, lost tourist or strange visitor, but aside from that, the job offered years of secure and uneventful employment. Ciro was spending his time chatting to a lovely lady approximately four thousand miles away online, which allowed him to share especially intimate moments after sunrise on his clock. (Despite the temptation, he had never done so while on duty; his commander had once, and the pulse disturbances had raised the alarm and resulted in several weeks of entertainment.)

The attack on Castle Neverberg several days earlier, such as it was, had been the catalyst for his transfer here; he'd been meaning to request another post for some time, and being nearly decapitated by a snarling vampire had made his mind up for him. Of course, only a few people had actually died, but the experience had been more than enough to motivate him to leave. The rest of the squad was still in disarray of course, and there were a few things that would need to be cleared up. He really pitied those who would have to face Mr. Parker personally, but he was looking forward to a long and uneventful career in mostly legal security work. Private jobs really did pay better, and though he was technically still employed by the government, Mr. Parker had some very interesting business interests.

And so it was that he was very surprised when the turtle walked up to him and grabbed him warmly by the throat. Had they been moving sneakily, or looking around uncertainly, or even aiming for what so many people think is a nonchalant walk, he would have immediately attracted suspicion. But he hadn't; the turtle had just approached the building on the western track, in plain sight and a steady gait, as if he had every right to be there. Shocked by this Ciro let off his weapon, the dull *crcck!* echoing loudly in the quiet night air.

The turtle didn't even blink, just stared straight ahead with a rather disturbing fixed grin. There was a strange, visceral noise and Ciro risked a look down. Quite a bit of the turtle had splashed on him, and it wasn't a pleasant color. Truly terrified now he aimed a few desperate punches at the creature's head. It was like hitting a sack of cement. He stopped as he felt the grip on his throat tighten like a vice.

"Good evening friend. Do forgive me brusqueness, but it's taken me some time to get here, and I do want to get to the point. There were two prisoners admitted to your former workplace, castle Neverland, I believe, some time ago, and you look like the kind of person who might know where they are."

"Gnnk. I'm not saying... anything."

"I understand you're a bit reluctant to provide this information, but do be aware that if you don't, I will break, quite literally, every bone in your body, starting with the inconsequential ones. You may very well survive, and your friends may very well capture me, but you my friend will spend the rest of your life in bed eating with the aid of a straw."

"You're not serious!"

The turtle smiled again, as if he'd heard some old joke, then quite calmly raised a hand towards his face. Making sure he had Ciro's complete attention he proceeded to grab his own chin and twist. There was an organic sound as bone and sinew snapped under strain. For a few seconds the creature's lower jaw flapped lose, then with another sickening noise it slowly repositioned itself. Ciro's attempt at being sick was stymied by the grip on his throat, but it was evident he had got the point.

"I see we have an understanding. Now then, those prisoners?"

"I don't know! One escaped with a traitor! They say she was gunned down a few miles east of here!"

"Gunned down?"

"Yes!"

"I see.... and the other?"

"I don't know either! There was some sort of escape! A mob hit the van during a routine transfer! The guards were killed!"

"I see. So, let me get this straight... one prisoner was killed in the forest, the other is missing, and neither is actually there?"

"Yes, that's right!"

"Damn that bloody vampire! Well, at least... whathisname is alright. The other one, you're sure she was killed?"

"Yes sir! Parker saw to it himself they say!"

"Right, fine."


Tier broke the guard’s neck with a flick of his wrist. The body slumped to the ground and was kicked aside. He was aware of being watched; the burnt turtle he had met so recently was staring at him with a sly smile and a hint of hopefulness.

"I'm not going to eat him, I fed already."

"Are you sure? Pity."

Tier was feeling much better now he'd fallen in with the assassins, or whatever they were. It wasn't that he liked being around cold blooded killers, he was one himself, quite literally. It was more the fact that now, even more than in the past few weeks, he had a sense of purpose, a goal in life. Granted it was to kill someone for no real reason than petty hatred, but it was a reason all the same. It was almost like living again... almost.

"What were you talking to him about anyway? It's in, out, ASAP."

"Personal business, I want to know a few things."

"Right. Well, this looks fun, shall we begin?"



* * *

Susan looked about the place, testing surfaces for dust and inspecting the pot plants. She felt a bit foolish for doing so, considering what had happened to them all over the past few days, she would have welcomed a derelict shack if it was safe. Come to think of it, Greenthorpe manor hadn't been in the best state either... But doing this was a small island of normality in what had become, quite quickly, a massive mess. It let her feel like she was in control, if only over a small domain of her existence.

Well, it seemed nobody had vacuumed here for quite some time. Nevermind, she could fix that, and it wasn't as if they'd be staying long in any case.

"I hope this is to your satisfaction Mrs. Bradhurst."

"It will do fine. You're sure-"

"I assure you that it is perfectly secure. I didn't survive all this time being able to blow up trains when I wanted by just being lucky you know."

"Yes, well..."

Thomas and Yakira entered behind her, looking around what would be their new home until the correct papers and preparations could be arranged. It was rather pleasant, if a little disused. Surprisingly it wasn't underground anywhere, but a rather nondescript apartment in one of the many high rise buildings that composed the city. They were apparently barely a mile away from where they had arrived, just on the outskirts of the town. Susan let out a huge sigh of relief and sat down on a nearby couch. She was asleep in seconds.

Thomas looked at his wife, it was no wonder she was so tired, the past few days had really taken it out of her, and everyone was gradually realizing that everything they had, their old lives, was probably done for now. They'd need to relocate off world, start all over, it was a humbling thought. And a frightening one.

"You're sure she'll be safe Mr. Kaz?"

"Positive, I know the guy who owns this place; he got burned by Parker years back, lost a lot of property and business. There's no way anyone here will rat you out, just keep a low profile and we can have you safe and sound by the end of the week."

"I guess that's a good thing. You certainly seem to be working fast."

"Your... friend is being very useful; it's nice to have someone who doesn't give a damn about being shot."

"Just so long as everyone is safe, that's al I care about."



* * *

Burnt really hated that zombie. Something about him made you want to just punch him in the face until he stopped moving. It wasn't that he was annoying as such; he just had this off-putting way of behaving. He never laughed, or swore or acted tough, all the proper trademarks of people in the business. It would have been nice if he'd got drunk, or mad or... anything, but he just spent his time with annoyingly muted actions. Burnt prided himself on his ability to judge people based on those little things, the tics and smiles, their swagger or handshake, but Tier was as clear as a brick wall. He went through the world as if he was afraid he'd break it and someone would tell him off.

On the other hand, they'd made a killing in card games in the few short days they'd been working together. The zombie drank like a sailor, but it never seemed to affect him, of course he'd have to cough it up a few hours later. The alcohol also masked the disconcerting smell of the grave and regular feeding made him almost indistinguishable from anyone else, thought Burnt had to continually remind him to do so, the guy seemed not to care if he started attracting flies. Apparently he had a friend who'd been even worse. Hard to believe.

But it was wonderful to sit back and watch him at poker, a face that barely moved a muscle, a body oblivious to the needs of sleep, the affects of alcohol, and anything used to spike the drinks. Once Tier had the rules explained to him, he was a natural, playing with the same solid determination he did everything else. They'd made sure not to win enough to be noticed of course, just enough for fun. When people started getting suspicious then it'd be time for the slur, the increasing losses, the giving up and going home, but they were always ahead at the end of the night. It was wonderful what a little spare cash could buy and despite the unnerving aspect of seeing his 'partner' shot on a regular basis, Burnt was having the time of his life.

"Good evening Mr. Pangloss."

A single shot, and the job was done. Another assignment completed. Burnt looked around the darkened office, snatched up a particularly nifty looking pen, and walked out.

* * *

Frederick Ambrose looked over the old building with an experienced eye. He had seen a lot of architecture in his time, and this was impressive. It was the sort of home the old rich had; not shiny and new, but stately and grand, with a style that could only be achieved by building something to last centuries, then letting it do so. It had a well developed garden, ivy covered walls, some tasteful statuary, possibly Marblarian in origin. All-in-all, very impressive. A suitable home for a king indeed. Mr. Parker had done very well for himself.

He was ushered inside by a butler of the traditional school. Mr. Ambrose liked that; it was nice to see some things that never changed, some standards kept up. The house was just as impressive on the inside, all decorative vaulting and fornication. Despite the fact that most of the rooms had probably never been used this decade, they were spotlessly clean. Mr. Parker had a thing for tidiness and impressions, and he certainly kept his staff on their toes. Of course, that was only to be expected.

"Ah! Mr. Ambrose. Do come in, I am glad you could make it."

"Yes, there has been a lot of trouble, as I'm sure you're aware."

"The massacre, yes, terrible business. That is, in fact, why I called you here."

"Yes?"

"I have identified the killers. Though I have dealt with one permanently, I shall require your assistance with the other."

"Killers? Just give me the word sir, and I assure you that-"

"Yes, I am well aware of your attitude towards the supernatural, it is why of course I trust you so much."

Frederick Ambrose scowled. It was true; he'd been vehemently against all sorts of hocus-pocus since the (-)(-)(-)(-)(-)(-)(-)s had murdered his family. He'd set out the next day, and a week later was in Schism. He had a record number of terminations on his record and had several awards for bravery. He'd reached the high ranks with amazing speed, but they had never seen the light; they were almost as bad as the vermin they'd been hunting.

"What was it then? The vampire who's after you?"

"No, he is not worth bothering about, I have someone to... deal with him. More worrying is a small insurgent group who have been employing some very powerful zombies."

"You've got to be kidding me Mr. Parker."

Zombies? Hah! They were a joke! Certainly they could wipe out an entire town overnight, but if you just locked your doors you'd be safe, and of course first you needed a zombie to start with. Wizards could make them of course, and some vampires knew the trick, but they were easily taken care of, gunfire would shred them, and they fell apart by themselves after a week or so. The massacre had been a bloodbath, you couldn't get that kind of result from a few groaning stiffs.

"You realize I do trust you Fred, I've known you a long time and that is why I am going to let you in on a few secrets. I hope I can still trust you Fred."

"Mr... Gary, I assure you, you've done so much for us over the years, I mean, you understand our purpose sir. I swear you can trust me on this."

"Even if it's... unorthodox?"

"Gary, unless you have a dozen corpses in your basement, I don't give a stuff about what lengths you've gone to."

"Heh... Good, then you will be pleased to follow me."

With that Gary Parker left the room, Frederick Ambrose close behind. Of course everyone knew of Parker's... interest in the occult, anyone involved with the supernatural developed on eventually, you wanted to get to know the hows and whys of your job, some more impressionable people even started thinking that perhaps the forces of darkness could somehow be persuaded to join them, all in one big happy family like. Nonsense. So he had no problem with the library, and it would be a library, it always was. Even as he strode purposefully down the twisting hallways and passages he could picture it. The forbidden books, the papers, maybe, since he was a rich sod, a few ornaments. He was not disappointed.

"This Fred, is my collection, what do you think?"

"Not bad... not bad, almost as big as mine, mind, the statues are an impressive touch."

It was indeed everything Fred had hoped for. Several shelves of forbidden reading, the usual stuff, such as the Liber Fulcarum and the Vivat Fluegue; some rather tasteless relics of magical use, long worn into dusty pointlessness, all the trappings of someone who liked, now and then, to assuage their curiosity with a little armchair reading. Of course the books weren't necessarily bad, while many had the standard material, carefully stripped of anything that might inform the unwary student of how to do various untoward actions, sometimes, if you really wanted to understand what you were up against, you needed the original stuff, the naked, simple purpose of it all.

Mr. Parker however had done everything very stylishly. There were a number of comfortable chairs, some antique oak furniture, some lovely tapestries, and, taking center place, in the center of the room a rather interesting statue depicting members of the three undead races, vampires, werewolves and zombies. Each stood facing outwards, with an expression of malice, while above them; sitting on some sort of throne was another figure, looking down on the rest with contempt.

"The statue is over five hundred years old. it depicts the three hundred and seventh vampire, Kaijin, the one hundred on forty fifth werewolf, Ronahin, and the nine hundred and thirty third zombie, Vedt. The figure in the middle is Bruhn himself, the creator of all three races."

"Four hundred and what? Kajin, Ronahin, they were all firsts."

"Really? Bruhn just thought one day 'Wow, I'll make vampires' and that was it? It's all in this tome Fred, they took years of development. 'first' really means 'first proper'; I do hope you don't tell anyone of this little book of mine."

Fred stared. It was an old leather bound grimorie, the cover bearing a simple symbol, a circle inscribed with a crude 'x'; one of the older runes of warning. He took the book from his old friend as if it might explode, and, if you believed some of the tales, it might. There was no doubt in his mind, even as he flipped it open and looked at the yellowing pages. This was a copy of the Chronicles of Bruhn, a book reputed to have originally been written by the monster himself, and long since passed out of history. He was completely speechless; if anyone ever even suspected Gary had this...

"Yes, it took quite some finding, I assure you, copies are very rare, and I don't intend to make any. In fact, one of our killers had a stolen copy on her when we tracked her down; I hope you know what that means."

"You recovered it surely?"

"Unfortunately no, however, I assure you that it is destroyed."

"I see. This is serious old friend, very, very serious."

"Yes, it involves Arcania zombies."



* * *

Tier ran quietly down the corridor, past the two slumped bodies he'd taken care of, and the one rather messy one Burnt had. And so it went, another guy dead, another Parker associate taken care of. It wasn't exactly a great job, or what he had planned, but it filled in the time, and helped him get vital information. If he-

A yell. A thump. The familiar feeling of having your brain vaporized.

When he 'came to' Tier was lying several feet away, the center of a small splatter of vaporized him, while Burnt stood over his assailant, who had been knocked unconscious. Tier knew the turtle rather well now, and they weren't going to wake up soon. Burnt deftly pointed a gun and-

"Whoa, hey, you can't just kill her!"

"Why not? She shot you! Point blank, in the head!"

"She's a civilian!"

"She's a nutcase! Do you know what this is? It's an LFG 1000 Mark 24!"

"It's a pretty black gun. Besides, we did kill a few people, she probably panicked."

"She's army or something!"

"All the more reason not to kill her then! C'mon, let’s just go!"

Burnt snorted, but holstered his weapon and stalked off. Tier looked down at the rabbit who had attacked him, then stomped heavily on her firearm. It smashed with a despairing creak, leaving fragments of casing in his foot. They should move quickly, the police were beginning to catch on to what was happening, though currently the only talk was of gang rivalries. They had been showing up with remarkable speed, no doubt interested, at least in some way, of protecting Mr. Parker's 'business'.



* * *

Ambrose left the building at quite a pace. When he wanted to, his walk could outpace most people's run. This was going to be... interesting. He was under no illusions as to what he was dealing with; a zombie that wouldn’t just fall apart, something that could feed and duplicate just like a vampire, but oh so much harder to kill. He had a saying for things like that 'Kill it with fire.'

He'd need more than his usual arsenal this time, zombies weren't something you had o deal with on a day-to-day basis. He'd been given a lovely device by Gary, but a cookie cutter would only slow the thing down. He'd need a flamethrower too, and some phosphorus rounds, something that would stick and burn as long as it took to take down the enemy.

He practically leapt into his car, the air of manic determination spoiled only slightly by its refusal to start until it had been pushed a few times. He had contacts, and he had information. He could track this thing, and destroy it, and Gary had promised that this time he'd get some recognition for his service.


* * *

And this was Neverburg, a few lights shinning out into the encroaching night, the castle stood as a black marker against the sky. Most of it would be empty; a locale so grand and secretive wouldn't be holding too many prisoners. This was a building with style; Tier had seen such before, Carrotus Castle was one, and the Abbey at Pinecross, all impressive arches, carvings, stained glass windows and othersuch miscellany that made up the traditional extravagant buildings of Carrotus' history.

Tier admired it as the sun sank low and the landscape darkened; it would be far easier to do things in night; he’d have no disadvantage, since his eyes didn't adjust to light anymore. It hadn't been too hard to find, everyone knew it existed, and while the exact location was a bit ambiguous, the site itself was never considered important enough to be of any public interest. Such was how the best atrocities were committed, in full public view and the validation of apathy.

There had recently been a breakout; or escape in any case, they wouldn't be expecting an attack so soon, there was nothing to be gained from such and no real good reason for any harm to come to the building or those in it aside from petty revenge, which surely nobody would seek since doing so would expose them to unnecessary risk. Tier however didn't think like that; he had nothing to lose, no chance of getting killed, little chance of being captured and several hundred pounds of C4 explosive in his backpack. He was, for the first time in centuries, upset, and was more than slightly eager to carry out the task ahead.

On the horizon the last rays of daylight flickered out into the darkening sky, and a shadowy shape moved ever closer to the castle walls.

Very nice DD, I'm glad you've decided to continue this. It gave me new inspiration and what not. Frederick Ambrose seems like a good addition to the cast of characters.

Very very nice DD. Makes me want to go back and read the whole thing again. Or write another chapter. Hrm...

Do it; you know you want to, in your heart of hearts...

Frederick Ambrose seems like a good addition to the cast of characters.

He's based on my old math teacher, and thus, totally disposable.

Finally got round to updating my copies of it. Note that the chapter numbering in these files doesn't match the numbering used in this thread - I seem to have five more chapters in my version.

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